You Should See Me In A Crown
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Minerva smiled then, leaning forward to press her lips to his cheek. "Then, Mr Tom Riddle of Wool's Orphanage… How do you feel about wearing a crown?" / MinervaTom, Cinderella!Au / For Jade.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Jade for the Monthly Oneshot Exchange. Prompts - MinervaTom / Cinderella!AU / Drama._

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 _All the love to Lizzy for Beta'ing_

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 **You Should See Me In A Crown**

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Tom swept by the fireplace, a scowl fixed on his face. No matter that the orphanage was full of other children, he was always left with the most horrible of jobs. Listening to the irritating twitter of the others leaving the large house they resided in, his scowl deepened.

The king and queen were holding a ball to find the princess a husband.

Tom rolled his eyes to himself. All the males in the land had been invited, so as to give the princess a 'proper choice'. At the orphanage, filled with sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds that would soon be thrown out and told to find their own paths, the prospect of becoming royalty had been the subject of conversation for weeks.

Tom was thoroughly fed up with it.

He wasn't allowed to go. He was being 'punished' for hitting Barty Crouch. The little snot, Tom hadn't laid a finger on him. He'd only threatened the boy with pain… he hadn't actually inflicted any. Now the brat was strutting around the orphanage, being congratulated by the others.

They were all aware that should Tom have been able to attend, they'd have no chance. Even without his grantedly seldom used charm, he had the looks to attract any woman, be she pauper or royal.

Of course, now, he'd no chance of getting out of the home, not for months yet, and even when he could, what was he supposed to do? Many of the others had inheritances awaiting them, their parents' fortunes kept in trust for them to take once they come of age; Tom had nothing to look forward to.

His mother had died upon his birth, with nothing but the clothes on her back and a tear stained face. It was a tragic story, Tom'd been told. His father, a rascal of a man who'd left his mother with a baby in her stomach and a broken heart.

He rather thought, if his mother were so weak as to die from a 'broken heart', his father had the right idea.

A small bang, followed by the clearing of a throat, had Tom spinning around to look at whoever had dared interrupt his musings. A stranger stood by the door, a strange looking wood stick in his hand, and a bored expression on his face.

"Who are you?" Tom asked, frowning as he straightened up.

"Lucius Malfoy," the man stated, his voice stately and proud. "And you are Tom Riddle, correct?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, you're here to adopt me," he muttered turning away. "You've a lonely mansion that you wish to share with a young man, someone who you can make your heir, when in actual fact, you're looking for a slave to keep your bed warm?"

The man snorted inelegantly, making Tom turn back to face him. "Dear Lord no. Why on earth would I want to adopt you? You're a walking ball of self pity - can you imagine the frown lines you'd cause me? No, no. Certainly not. No, I'm your fairy god… person."

Tom wasn't sure what to say to that. Lucius rolled his eyes, flicking his long blond hair over his shoulder.

"Really kid, don't you _read_? Fairy tales… _Cinderella_ … any of this ringing a bell for you?"

"If you're expecting me to start talking to mice and birds -"

Lucius' brow furrowed as confusion took over his expression. "Why would I want you to - you know what, never mind. I've a suit that's in your size, and a limo waiting outside. Shower, dress, and hurry up about it, won't you? I've to meet my wife for dinner later this evening."

With that, Lucius draped a garment bag Tom hadn't seen him holding over one of the worn kitchen chairs, and exited with a dramatic huff and another flick of his hair.

Unsure as to what was actually going on, but willing to explore it further, Tom dropped the sweeping brush next to the fire and, grabbing the garment bag, headed for the bathroom. His limited memory of Cinderella said that the girl danced with and later married the prince and lived happily ever after.

Snorting at the idea, Tom readied himself quickly.

Lucius had indeed been waiting for Tom in a limo, and they'd arrived rather quickly to the winding driveway of the palace.

"Now. I understand you're a brooding pit of despair and angst," Lucius said as the car was pulling to a stop. "But please keep in mind that this is the best way you have at a decent future. From what I've been informed, you can be charming if you wish, so I suggest you put your best foot forward and wow the princess. Capishe?"

"Why are you doing this?" Tom asked, as the door was opened by the driver.

Lucius shrugged his shoulder, the movement graceful and fluid. "I was… coerced. That, and I realised that spending a few years helping ungrateful people have better lives was better than a prison sentence. I'm a Malfoy. I wasn't made for a jail cell. Have fun, Tom, and remember. Be. Charming."

Tom danced. He smiled. He charmed. He smirked when he caught sight of a few of the boys from the orphanage, each of them standing on the edges of the room, being ignored by the many eligible women on the search for husbands.

Princess Minerva was a surprisingly witty woman. She was as done with the ball as Tom had been of hearing about it, she'd confided. As he swept her around the dance floor, he made sure to slip in his full name and that he lived at the Wool's Orphanage into the conversation.

Should this rather odd turn of events continue to replicate the tale of Cinderella, he wasn't interested in taking the chance that Minerva wouldn't be able to find him.

He was taken slightly by surprise to be introduced to the king and queen within the hour of meeting the princess however.

The conversation had been short, and he'd been sure to remain respectful yet aloof, unwilling to show his desperation to get away from the dreadful place he lived in to those who had the ability to move him.

As the evening drew to a close, Minerva led Tom to a semi private balcony, where he immediately removed the suit jacket to drape around her bare arms.

"You're not interested in me," she commented quietly. "You're interested in the position you would be given, at my side."

Tom's eyes widened slightly, the only sign that she'd taken him by surprise.

"Princess -"

"Don't lie to me," she murmured. "Of all the men I've met, all those that my parents have pushed before me, you're the only one that hasn't gushed all over me like a wet limpet. I don't want to be my mother, hiding behind her husband.

"You would allow me that. You would leave me to be… myself. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Tom replied, raising his eyebrow at her. "You're a strong woman. I can respect that," he added, surprisingly himself when he realised the words were true.

This woman wouldn't lay down and die of a broken heart, he thought to himself, his eyes taking all of Minerva in. She wasn't beautiful in the common way, but there was something about her, her spirit perhaps, that he admired.

Minerva smiled then, leaning forward to press her lips to his cheek. "Then, Mr Tom Riddle of Wool's Orphanage… How do you feel about wearing a crown?"


End file.
